


Everything

by 3ndoftheline



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Bucky Barnes Angst, Civil War (Marvel), F/M, I'm Sorry, Mild Language, One Shot, i have no idea what this is or what came over me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 18:28:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7812508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3ndoftheline/pseuds/3ndoftheline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She wasn't ordinary. She was magic</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything

**Author's Note:**

> so I saw a post awhile ago with the quote that also acts as the summary to this one shot and it sparked this. I don't know fam, I just really love angst I'm sorry. Anyways, as usual you can find me on my tumblr crying about Sebastian Stan and whoever else I come across. Enjoy! :)

The first time Bucky saw her, he almost got hit by an eighteen wheeler. It wasn’t like it was her fault (well, it was but it was indirectly…she didn’t really _know_ about it.)

He was in Bucharest and was trying his best to remain cloaked from searching eyes. His black cap was placed low so nobody could see his flickering gaze and the collar of his jacket was pulled up so no one could see the constant tick of his jaw. He had scanned the street across of him to look for any potential dangers when he saw her.

And _God_ was she dangerous.

She was working at the market, her wild hair pulled into a haphazard ponytail as she laughed at something someone told her. He could hear her laughter even above the crowd, sweet and melodic and everything good comprised into a single sound. Her smile rivaled the suns and when her face turned he swore he hadn’t seen anything more beautiful in his entire life.

It was cheesy, he knew and he also knew his life was anything but a romance novel and the chances of her even _glancing_ at a guy like him were so slim it wasn’t even funny. Still, he stared until he heard a sharp gasp and a hand gripped the back of his jacket to pull him back as a truck screeched past him, the thick air tugged at his hair.

“ _God_ , are you trying to get yourself killed?”

It was her. Her lips were parted and her cheeks were flushed but it was _her_. Bucky wasn’t even sure how she had gotten to him so fast but it didn’t even matter because she was _there_ and she was staring at _him_ and he didn’t even care if she was annoyed or angry, he’d take anything if it meant for her to be close.

“No,” was all he could muster out and he knew it was a pathetic response but it was all he could come up with.

“Well you’re doing a pretty damn good job at it,” she shot back. She sat back with a sigh before she released his jacket. “Watch your step next time, alright? I’m too young to die of a heart attack.”

And with that she was gone.

The next day he was back in the same spot again, except this time he crossed the street without any difficulty and found himself in front of her stall before he could talk himself out of it. She looked up from the book she was reading with a surprised look before a slow, beautiful smile grew on her face and stole the breath from his lungs.

“I'm glad to see you made it safely across,” she teased as she nodded her head towards the street.

“Took me a bit,” Bucky responded and she smiled wider before she set down her book and stood up from the wooden stool she sat on.

“What can I get for you?” She waved her hand over the crates of fruit. He blinked, suddenly realizing that he had to buy something. He didn’t have the courage to tell her that the only reason why he showed up was to see her. “Overwhelming, innit?” She laughed when Bucky didn’t reply. “I don’t even know what half of these fruits are.”

“Starfruit,” Bucky suddenly said when her hand paused over a bright yellow fruit. She raised an eyebrow at him curiously before he cleared his throat. “That’s a starfruit.”

“Is that what they call it? I've been calling it an Ugly Lemon this whole time.” Bucky laughed. It was sudden and unexpected but _God_ did it feel good. She grinned back at him before she grabbed a plastic bag and threw in five plums. “Here, take these. Plums are my favorite.”

Bucky reached into his pocket to pay with what little money he had but she touched his arm. “It’s on me.”

“I can’t–”

“As long as you promise not to put yourself into any more dangerous situations then you can have the plums.”

Bucky knew he could never keep a promise like that. Danger followed him wherever he went. But he took the plums anyways. He would do _anything_ to see her smile like that again.

He kept showing up. Some days he’d approach her, other days he wouldn’t. He realized how creepy it was. Just to sit back and watch her, but it was his favorite thing to do. She was so animated. Everything she said was with a sort of gusto and excitement that he hadn’t seen before in years. Everything amazed her and she was so _eager_ to show that to everyone else. It was like she knew what the world could give her and every time she got a piece of that; she exploded into bright colors and Bucky couldn’t dare to look away.

“You think it’s socially acceptable for me to have a second breakfast like hobbits do?” She asked Bucky when he had the courage to walk up to her fruit stand one day. He saw her place her tattered copy of _The Hobbit_ onto her wooden stool as she stood to meet him. She was dressed in a thick cardigan and dark jeans and he watched as her chin and mouth disappeared behind the thick scarf, only her sparkling eyes peeked over the wool.

“Depends on what society you’re thinking about,” Bucky responded and smiled as she tilted her head thoughtfully.

“Well, I suppose in this society it wouldn’t be necessarily a _good_ thing but I doubt anyone would make a big deal about it, hm?” He was about to reply when her entire demeanor changed. Her smile became tighter and her eyes zeroed in on a spot just over his shoulder. It was enough to make his whole body seize as his left arm whirred in response. “Follow me, yeah? Don’t look back. Whatever you do, do _not_ look back.”

Bucky swallowed down the tight knot that formed in his throat. He followed her, which was so _stupid_ because she had no idea what she was doing and Bucky _knew_ she was walking into a trap. She took him behind the tent when he saw them.

A strike force of six broken up into tag teams. One milled by the street that led into the market, another walked along the stalls and the other hung back and milled in the crowd.

“This is the third time this week they’ve been here,” she mumbled and Bucky had forgotten for a split second that she was there beside him. “They kept showing your picture. They said you bombed the UN.”

Bucky felt his whole world come crashing down as her words repeated in his head. He glanced back over his shoulder and knew what little time he had left. He had maybe ten, fifteen minutes tops if things went his way.

“I know you didn’t bomb those people.” Her voice pulled him away from the men in all black, from his past catching up to him and from those desperate to take him down. “You were here…talking to me when they said you did it. I would’ve never believed them, anyways.”

The smile she gave him warmed him and tore him apart at the same time. He wanted to pull her in and forget…just _forget_ about everything and all the _fucked_ up things in his life. He wished… _God_ he wished he had more time. He wished he had a thousand lifetimes with her, anything. But he didn’t, he didn’t have any time and the longer she stood with him the shorter her time was becoming.

“You have to go,” he whispered as he shot another look over his shoulder. They were becoming restless.

“What? No way in hell–”

“You have to,” he hissed. His voice was harsh but she _needed_ to understand.

“I'm _not_ leaving you alone.” Her voice was fierce and there was such an intense fire in her eyes she almost looked unrecognizable. “You’ve been alone your whole damn life. I’m not about to let you live like that again.”

Bucky stared at her. It was all he could do. Because she was so _stupid_. She was so, _so_ stupid and naïve and careless of her own safety. He wanted to scream. He wanted to push her and yell at her and tell her everything so she would just _go_. Get away from him and everything else that he touched because everything wilted beneath him and he _refused_ to let her see the same end.

“I don’t matter, you need to go. Please – goddammit, you have to go.” The men were talking in their earpieces and Bucky spotted on the rooftop a sniper and he knew his time was getting so much shorter. And she was _still there_.

“You matter to me.” Her voice was so soft he wondered if he had imagined what she said. But he knew he didn’t. She sighed, her breath soft and he felt it flutter in the cold air around them. “Look…I know I’m not some kickass assassin or some – superhuman or _whatever_. I’m not much, but I just – I can’t leave you alone. I _can’t_ and I _won’t_.”

She was right. She wasn't an assassin and she wasn’t superhuman. But none of that mattered. None of that fucking mattered because _God_ she was everything. She was the sun and the moon and the stars wrapped into one. She was the burst of sunshine you saw after a thunderstorm and the first flowers that peeked through the winter snow. She saved Bucky’s life in ways she could have never known.

He didn’t know how else to tell her. He didn’t know how to say how much he fucking cared for her that it hurt to _breathe_ sometimes and how when he felt his life closing in around him he thought of her, smiling and laughing over bees tripping over her fruit or how glassy her eyes got when a page in her books got too overwhelming even for her. He didn’t know how to tell her that sometimes, the light would hit the fruit stall just right and she would light up like the first star against a velvet night sky. Or how she was everything he could ever wish for but nothing he deserved.

She deserved to live, she _deserved_ to be happy and smile and _laugh_.

Bucky stared at her bright, vibrant eyes and how flushed her cheeks were and how her full, pink lips parted as she dared him to defy her. So he did the only thing he knew.

He kissed her.

It wasn’t as smooth as he imagined it but it felt _right_. It was desperate and she was _everywhere_. Her fingers tangled in his hair and her chest was flush against his. His left hand held her flush while his right hand mapped out every curve and bump and committed it to memory. And as he kissed her, he _knew_ the sniper had spotted him. He could hear the men collecting outside the tent. He heard the clicks of the safeties and Velcro of the Kevlar vests. But all he could think about was _her_ and how fucking sorry he was.

_I'm sorry. Forgive me, please. Be happy, move on. I’m sorry. You deserve the world. I’m sorry. You are everything. Forgive me. I have to do this. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry._

She pulled away first and she was gasping for air when she looked at him. “We’ll figure this out, yeah?” Bucky couldn’t help the ghost of the smile on his lips at the determination in her eyes because she was so _innocent_ and so unaware of everything. And he hoped – he _prayed_ that one day he could look at the world with such optimism. That he could see the world in such bright colors like she did instead of seeing black, white and red.

Bucky cupped her face in his hands and kissed her lips once, twice, three times until he was sure he’d feel her against his mouth for days afterwards. He memorized how silky her hair was beneath his fingertips and how she gasped lightly whenever his tongue dipped low into her mouth or how her body came alive when his hand brushed against her jawline.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as he separated himself from her. Boots were stomping hard on the ground now, voices whispered in German as the sniper got in positon.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, her eyes still closed as if she was reveling in the moment. Bucky burned that image in his mind forever.

“I’m so sorry.” He stepped back and before she could open her eyes, he placed his right hand on her shoulder and pushed. She fell back onto the crates, not hard enough to hurt her but enough to disorient her. And then he stepped back, away from the tent just as they rounded the corner.

Voices began shouting at him and there were rough hands and the cold metal barrel of guns pressed against his back and chest as he was thrown to the ground. He didn’t care. He didn’t listen to a word they said. He watched her as she emerged from the fallen crates. Her eyes immediately fell on his as her lips mouthed his name.

 _I’m sorry_ , he apologized again and again. She shook her head and immediately ran for him but two men blocked her path. He knew she struggled, he knew she probably fought them until her lungs burned and her throat cracked.

“I’m sorry,” he kept whispering. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so _fucking_ sorry.”


End file.
